To Whom She May Concern
by ItsLukasBondevik
Summary: Charon finishes Uzura, and Fakir has a lot to tell her.


Fakir did not wait long into the next morning before returning to the square. His body was sore and injured, and it had not yet healed, but he could not falter. He was still alive, and he owed it to the puppet woman Edel for rescuing him, and warming his body with the light of her own set aflame. She sacrificed herself to save him, and to lead Mytho and Princess Tutu out of the darkness.

The square was still empty, and the townsfolk had not yet awoken this morning. The chill of the early hour reached deep inside of Fakir's bones, and he shivered beneath his bedclothes. His mind had been made up so quickly and his body had rushed from his home so abruptly he hadn't even bothered to put on more than his shorts and tattered brown shirt. But he ignored the cold, his feet treading the stone streets so quietly that not even the lightest of sleepers would be awoken by him. But that was all right, Fakir did not need to be interrupted by the trivial lives of people he did not particularly care for.

The square was ahead, and Fakir ran his hand across the stone image of the man carved into the wall, above the secret staircase that he and Duck had traveled just last night to save Prince Mytho. And save him they had, or... Fakir paused for a moment, or Tutu had saved him. Fakir had done nothing but be injured and nearly died by the hands of that damned raven witch, and destroy Mytho's sword. He had worried Duck for nothing.

He moved away from the secret entrance, and stood before the pile of wood and ashes that was once Edel. He sifted through the charred wood, picking out pieces that were not completely charred or destroyed. The wood was colorful, but it still struck a sad chord deep within Fakir that he could not explain. The sacrifice of someone who was supposed to be nothing more than a puppet for the sake of someone she truly tried to care for as much as someone without a heart could.

Fakir felt a twinge of pain in his shoulder and ignored it, pushing the pieces into a bag he had looped around his shoulder. It grew heavy, but he made sure not to miss a single splinter that was salvagable. It did not take him long to finish his task, and he hurried back along the empty streets just as the sun was beginning to rise, back to the smithy shop where Charon was just waking up. "Charon," he said as he walked in through the door. "Do you think you can do something with this?" He tipped the bag over, piling the bits of wood on the table. "It would mean a lot to me if you could."

Gazing at his son, for all intents and purposes, Charon picked up a single stick of wood. "Is this Edel?" he asked, running his thumb along the fine grains of green painted wood. Fakir nodded, sitting at the chair next to Charon gingerly, trying not to irritate his wounds. He rested his chin on his hand, and watched the man look at the pieces. "I won't be able to remake Edel," he admitted. "There aren't enough pieces. But I can try to make another puppet. It'll be smaller, but I think I can do it, Fakir."

He nodded in relief, pushing his hair out of his face. "Thank you, Charon."

"You go back to bed Fakir," he said gently. "You're not well enough to be running around the town." Fakir nodded in agreement, much to Charon's surprise, and he went back to bed, curling under his sheets, and allowing himself to finally fall asleep.

-break-

He heard tapping. He was groggy and tired, and when he sat up, the tapping stopped. Fakir saw nothing unusual in his room, and he flopped back down to the mattress, his arm crooked over his eyes. His head hurt, and he felt like he had slept for weeks and weeks on end. He stretched out his arms and legs and sat up, his stomach bothering him for something to eat. "Fakir, zura!" something called and he fell back into his bed, startled.

"What the...?" he said loudly, looking around for the voice. He heard the tapping once again, and glanced down by his feet. A little girl stood there, with aqua hair and a tiny drumset, her dark eyes wide and staring at him. "What the hell?" he grumbled, kneeling down to look at her. "Who are you?"

She smiled at him and said happily, "My name is Uzura, and you are Fakir, zura!"

"Uzura?" he said slowly, his head cocked to one side. "Oh!" Fakir noted the green hair and white skin, and reached out to touch her hand. She was made of wood. "Charon finished you." Uzura watched him for a moment.

"I don't get it, zura!" she told him cheerfully, banging on her drum. His head throbbed, but he ignored it, sitting on the edge of his bed. She watched him, her smile never fading as she sat down, with her legs sticking out in front of her. She was a darling little puppet girl, just as colorful as Edel, sweet and very curious about everything. Fakir couldn't help but feel a little attached to her already, not that he would admit that to anyone.

He said, "Your name is Uzura then?" She nodded. "How did you know my name is Fakir?"

"Charon told me your name is Fakir, zura. He said I shouldn't wake you up, zura," she said banging her drum once again, rather loudly and it grated against his headache. However, he was so interested in this little girl that he once again ignored it.

"So you only know because Charon told you? You don't remember being... someone else?" Uzura watched him for a moment before putting a hand against her chin in thought. She looked so concentrated that for a moment Fakir was getting concerned, but she just threw her hands up in the air and laughed.

She said, "I'm Uzura and not someone else, zura!" Fakir nodded and sat on the floor in front of her, his legs crossed and his chin in his hands.

"You don't remember Mytho do you?" She shook her head, looking awed. "Mytho is a prince," he started again, furrowing his brow. "He's lost his heart, and I help get it back for him. Me and Duck help get his heart back for him."

"Quack like the duck, zura?" she asked, her mouth in a round O as she stared at Fakir.

He smiled for a moment. "Sort of. Sometimes she's a duck, with a tail and a beak and feathers and everthing. Sometimes she's a girl with really long red hair and blue eyes. She's got freckles," he added, pointing to the area above his nose thoughtfully. "She's kind of a klutz, she falls down a lot."

"She's a duck named Duck, zura?" Uzura questioned, looking confused. "I don't get it, zura!"

Fakir looked out the window for a moment as the sun began to rise. He had slept for so long, he could hardly believe it. Finally he nodded, turning back to her. "She's a girl when she wears this red necklace, and she's a duck when she doesn't wear the necklace. Sometimes though, if she acts like a duck, she'll be a duck, and if you pour water on her, she'll be a girl again." Uzura took all this information in, looking very interested in all this development on a girl she didn't know named Duck who was a duck and was sometimes a girl.

"So when she's a duck, water makes her a girl, zura?"

Fakir nodded. "And she helps me keep Mytho safe." For a moment, Fakir wondered why he was telling Uzura all of this. She was curious, and he really needed to tell someone everything. Uzura seemed to be at the right place at the right time now, and, he figured, she would be with him and Charon. Why did it matter if she knew everything when she really had no one to tell? He'd spent too much of his life keeping his thoughts to himself, too much of his life being the only person he ever relied on.

It made him feel very alone.

"Fakir, more story, zura?" Uzura asked after he said nothing more for a minute. He snapped out of his musing and stood up from the ground, walking from his room into the kitchen. Uzura followed him out, tapping her drum as she went. They were rather quiet outside of her instrument, Fakir eating a slice of bread with a bit of cheese and meat that Charon had left out for him. He pulled Uzura up on the table, and took a book out from his bedroom.

"This the story of the Prince and the Raven," he began, opening to the first page.


End file.
